


wanna be felled by you

by middlecyclone



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Costumes, First Time, Hand Jobs, M/M, Outdoor Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 15:10:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15932975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/middlecyclone/pseuds/middlecyclone
Summary: The thing is, unfortunately, that Ryan's fucking hat and his leather jacket and the overall Young Harrison Ford of it all are, well, kind of really working for him.





	wanna be felled by you

**Author's Note:**

> Pretend that this fic takes place in a world where they do all their own filming and there are absolutely no TJs in the woods to witness them having sex. 
> 
> Title from Hozier's NFWMB.

“Look,” Shane says, “all I’m saying is, I don’t think Indiana Jones’s pants were that tight.”

“Fuck off, he wore khakis,” Ryan says, laughing. “Whatever, dude, where’s your, uh–your dinosaur–”

“My  _ dinosaur _ ?”

“You go  _ Jurassic Park,  _ you gotta bring that dinosaur–”

“He doesn’t  _ have  _ a dinosaur, that’s not what the movie is about–”

“Oh,” Ryan says, excitedly, bending down, “look at this!”

The thing Ryan wants him to look at is, apparently, a shiny white rock. 

“It’s like a crystal,” Shane observes.

Then here’s a frantic scramble down a steep hillside as Ryan maybe sees a box, and Shane never sees anything that Ryan sees but boy howdy, that really does look like a box–

“Holy shit,” Ryan says, breathlessly, hands scrabbling through the undergrowth, and then he realises, “that is a very very square rock, God fucking damnit.”

Shane laughs. “Oh, ain’t that a motherfucker.”

Ryan starts ranting then about how all the clues had led them to this exact location but the thing is, unfortunately, that even though Ryan sounds kind of insane right now, his fucking hat and his leather jacket and the overall Young Harrison Ford of it all are, well, kind of really working for him. 

Shane isn’t exactly proud of that. It’s not his brightest moment. But also, he was a preteen boy once. He watched  _ Raiders of the Lost Ark  _ as much as any other vaguely nerdy kid with a VHS, a love for film, and a Blockbuster card. It was  _ formative _ , is what he’s saying. 

He hadn’t realized it was sexually formative as well as aesthetically formative until about seven hours ago, in that hotel room, as Ryan did a stupid little fucking twirl right in front of his eyes _,_ but Shane is realizing a lot of things right about now and among those things is the fact that he kind of, really, extremely wants to have sex with Ryan.

It’s fine. Well, no, it’s not all that fine, but it’s  _ not  _ going to be a thing. 

Shane is not going to let it become a thing.

“Why did you even notice Indiana Jones’s pants, anyway?” Ryan asks, as they trudge back through the forest undergrowth towards their rental car.

“I plead the fifth,” Shane says grimly.

“For that matter, why did you even notice  _ my  _ pants?!”

Shane grimaces. “I plead,” he repeats, “the fifth.”

Ryan stops walking dead in his tracks in order to pivot around and stare at him, one eyebrow raised. “Wait, dude, forreal?”

Shane groans. “Ugh,” he says, “can we not–do this–”

“Do what?”

“You’re an attractive man dressed as Indiana fucking Jones, okay, I’m just saying–”

“You think I’m attractive?”

“No!” Shane snaps. “I mean, yes, honestly, but-no. No!”

“No?”

“This is not going to be a thing,” Shane says, repeating his own internal monologue of a few moments ago, “I am not going to let this become a thing.”

“What?”

“So you look good in a costume. Everyone looks good in a costume sometimes! It’s just the natural order of things! That’s why everyone loves Halloween!”

“I hate to break this to ya, dude, but you do  _ not  _ look great in your costume,” Ryan says, laughing. “You look like a total dork.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

Ryan’s grin slides off his face then as he affixes Shane with a probing, serious look, “But, like–I know you said it isn’t a thing–”

“Damn right I did–”

“But,” Ryan cuts in, firmly, “but. If you wanted it to be a thing. It could be.”

There is a long silence then, broken only by the bright chirping of birds and the faint, distant rush of the creek.

“Wait,” Shane says slowly, “what?”

Ryan flushes. “I mean–you know, like–”

“Like, us?” Shane asks. “Like, you and me and your leather jacket?”

Ryan laughs. “Yeah, man,” he says. “You and me and my leather jacket.”

“Alright,” Shane says, and takes half a second to switch off his GoPro before stepping forward and bending down and taking Ryan’s face in his hands.

“Okay,” Ryan says, “great, that’s–great.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, mouth barely an inch away from Ryan’s. “There’s still time to change your mind.”

“Fuck off,” Ryan breathes, and surges upward, and then they’re kissing, standing there alone in the middle of the woods.

It’s extremely good, which is surprising to Shane. It’s his experience that first kisses are always, without exception, awkward beyond belief. And sure, there’s a bit of a stumbling block as they search together for the right angle, but Ryan’s lips are soft and warm and his hands are just this side of too rough as they grab at Shane’s stupid utility vest and it’s really,  _ really  _ good.

Ryan kisses like he’s looking for something, which Shane probably should have expected, because Ryan actually is always looking for something, whether it’s ghosts or treasure or a new pair of shoes. He kisses like Shane is a puzzle he’s trying to figure out, and if he just kisses a little harder, licks a little deeper, stands a little closer, pulls a little harder, it will all fall right into place.

The problem with this method is that Shane is not actually a puzzle. If he had the ability to solve himself for Ryan he would do it, right then and there, in a heartbeat, but he isn’t and he can’t and so all he can do is stand there as Ryan bites at his lower lip and mouths at Shane’s neck and sticks his hands inside his shirt and just kiss back. All he can do is just stand there and kiss Ryan and, above all, take whatever Ryan throws at him.

It’s not that he’s not into this. It’s really, really not that he’s not into this. It’s more like, he feels like he’s not holding up his end of the bargain. The kissing bargain. Kargain?

No. Definitely not kargain.

That’s why he pushes Ryan until he has his back against a tree and then sinks to his knees, refusing to think too hard about the implications of what he’s doing, just following his instincts and going for what he wants. 

“Oh,” Ryan says, startled, as Shane fumbles with Ryan’s belt buckle, unfastening it and moving on to the button of his stupid too-tight khakis, “uh–”

“Is this okay?” Shane asks, pausing. 

“Yeah,” Ryan says, “God, yeah.”

“Okay,” Shane says, “good. Just checking.”

“It’s good,” Ryan says, voice higher than usual, “it’s, uh, it’s good to check,” and he sounds almost the same as he does when he’s terrified out of his mind filming Unsolved Supernatural videos, but as Shane tugs his underwear down and gets his mouth around Ryan he’s pretty sure that he’s not scared right now.

It’s still Ryan so, no guarantee, but Shane is  _ pretty  _ sure.

Shane has done this before, but it’s been a while; he figured it would be like riding a bike, that everything would come back to him in the moment, and that’s mostly true but he’s still a little rusty, not quite perfect at judging precisely how much of Ryan he can actually fit in his mouth at once. Still, Ryan doesn’t exactly seem to mind; his hands make their way into Shane’s hair, knocking his hat onto the ground, and he’s moaning loudly.

“Yeah,” Ryan is saying, “yeah, God, yeah,  _ fuck _ .”

Shane’s jaw aches and he can feel the damp of the ground soaking through the knees of his pants and honestly, Ryan is pulling his hair a little  _ too  _ hard, his scalp kind of stings, but still this is–good. So good. It feels amazing, to be pulling these sorts of reactions out of Ryan; it’s a kind of power that he didn’t realize he could have, and a kind of power he hadn’t realized he was interested in having, at least as far as it applies to Ryan, but–well. Yes, he’s interested.

“Shane,” Ryan gasps, “I’m gonna–”

Shane doesn’t say anything, because his mouth is  _ kind of full _ , but he moves a hand down to Ryan’s knee, squeezing it gently, trying to say, “I’ve got you, it’s okay,” with the gesture, and then he doubles down and sucks harder, better, faster, all the Kanye adjectives, until Ryan is coming down his throat with a loud gasp.

Shane pulls off and tries to get back on his feet, but Ryan, still breathing hard, gets a hand on his shoulder and presses down, firmly, keeping him there.

“No,” Ryan says, “not like–not like that, just let me,” and then he’s shoving at Shane, manhandling him, until Shane finds himself lying flat on his back on the ground, staring up at the sky until Ryan leans over him and blocks everything else out.

“Hey,” Shane says, stupidly. Ryan just rolls his eyes and swings a leg over Shane’s torso until he’s straddling him, almost, and then he bends down and kisses Shane again, tasting himself in Shane’s mouth, hot and desperate and shocking in the moment.

Shane can feel wet leaf mulch on his lower back, which usually would be the absolute opposite of a turn-on in every imaginable way, but today has been a really weird day and it’s honestly not doing a whole lot to dampen his arousal; he’s still so hard he feels crazy with it, feverish, burning up from the inside out. So maybe he is now the kind of man who is sexually aroused by wet leaf mulch. Sure, okay. Stranger things have happened.

“God,” Shane says, “really? On the ground? In the forest? Are you sure?”

“Shut up, Shane,” Ryan says, breathless, and sticks his hand inside Shane’s pants. It is, Shane has to admit, a pretty effective argument.

Ryan’s hand is firm and assured on Shane’s dick, but the angle is awkward and it’s a little too dry, so it all ends up being just the wrong side of too much. Still, Ryan squeezes harder and twists and then Shane makes a keening sound that he really, really hadn’t been intending to make.

“Ryan,” he gasps out, “please,” and Ryan listens to him, pulls his jeans open properly and licks his hand for some extra moisture, and then he’s touching Shane again, better than before.

“Hey,” he says, “I lied before.”

“What?”

“When I said you looked like a dork in your costume,” Ryan explains. “I think you look good.”

“Thanks, I … think?”

“No, really,” Ryan says, still stroking him as he talks, “you look so–fuck–so  _ fucking  _ hot like this, with the stupid vest and the stupid hat and you’re just, you’re just lying here for me, being good for me, just so–”

“God,” Shane says, “ _ Ryan _ ,” and he reaches a hand up, desperately, not sure what he’s searching for, and ends up grabbing the collar of Ryan’s shirt and tugging him down to kiss him again, sloppy and intense. He pulls a little too hard and the top two buttons go flying off the buttondown, rolling away and disappearing somewhere in the wilderness, gone forever, but Shane literally could not care less.

“Hey,” Ryan squawks, annoyed, but Shane ignores him and keeps kissing him, swallowing his protests. His Indiana Jones hat is in the way, bumping against Shane’s forehead, and Ryan tries to take it off, but Shane grabs his wrist and stops him.

“No,” Shane says, voice cracking, “keep the hat on.”

Ryan laughs at him. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Keep,” Shane repeats, “the  _ hat  _ on,” and then his hips are canting upwards and he’s thrusting up frantically into Ryan’s grip and he’s coming, unexpectedly, hitting him like a freight train as he shudders and falls apart, lying on the forest floor bracketed under Ryan’s body.

“Huh,” Ryan says after a long moment, “okay, so it really is the costume.”

“I told you,” Shane says, “I  _ told  _ you.”

Ryan laughs and wipes his hand off on some leaves, before standing up and zipping his pants back up, straightening himself out. “Ugh,” he says, looking at the way his now-open shirt gapes halfway down his chest, “you suck, Shane. I liked this shirt.”

“Shut up,” Shane says, pulling his own pants back up before pushing himself up onto his elbows to stare up at Ryan, “you know you think you look great.”

“Well, yeah,” Ryan says, “but I still want those buttons.” He holds his hands out for Shane to grab and lever himself back to his feet. “Turn around,” he orders, “let me brush you off, you’re fucking covered in leaves.”

“And whose fault is that?!” Shane says, indignant, but obeys. “It’s not just the costume, though,” he says, while his back is turned to Ryan.

“What?”

“I mean, yeah, I like the costume,” he says, “but I like you the rest of the time, too.”

There’s a beat, as Ryan finishes brushing leaves off the back of Shane’s vest, and then–

“Okay,” Ryan says, “yeah.”

“Yeah?” Shane asks, turning around, one eyebrow raised. “That’s it?”

“Yeah,” Ryan says, grinning, “that’s it. C’mon, big guy, let’s head back,” Ryan says, “I’m fucking starving.”

“Pizza?” Shane says hopefully.

“And a fucking  _ shower _ ,” Ryan agrees. “Let’s go.”


End file.
